Chapter 1252: Rekindled Light

My vision blurred as the World Shard erupted with light. A wave of raw mana rolled across the Archives, carrying the weight of the world with it. Memories flashed through me like broken visions, and for a moment, I was the world. I was everything it had wanted, everything it had hoped for, everything it had feared.

I reached for Luke, my scream vanishing into the noise, but my hand passed through empty air. The whole world shook, and then the ground dropped out from beneath me.

I landed on my knees in the dark.

There was no mana, no Archives, no power. The air was cold and stagnant, heavy with dust and a faint hint of rot. My dress hung in tatters around me, coarse and rough against my skin. Not silk. My hair felt light, dry and tangled, barely reaching my back.

I shifted with a groan. My whole body ached, from my tail to the tips of my horns, which felt scratchy and itchy, as though they hadn’t been washed in far too long. My body felt too thin, too weak. Fire blazed in my shoulder, hot and sharp. I reached for it and froze, suppressing a scream as heat seared my fingers.

"No," I protested, coughing in the dry air. "It’s not possible."

But it was.

A dim white glow lit the darkness, reflecting off the bars of a cage. Ignoring the sting, I groped at my chest and pulled aside the ragged fabric of my dress. A slave’s dress.

And there it was.

My throat tightened. "No, no, no..."

The slave crest was dark crimson, almost black, carved into worn, weathered skin blotched with bruises and laced with raw stripes from a whip.

I reached for my mana and felt nothing. Not even the faintest stirring of Fate or Oblivion. Not one star twinkled in the gloom.

I hugged myself, shivering uncontrollably, my mind spinning with fear and confusion. What had happened? Just seconds ago, we’d been in the Divine Throne, fighting, and then...

Nothing.

The memories were already growing dim and fuzzy, as if they belonged to another life. Luke. Korra. R’lissea. Fable. I knew those names mattered to me, but I couldn’t picture their faces. They felt like fragments of a dream, something warm and impossible that had slipped through my fingers the moment I woke.

But this—this was real.

The Sunpurge was real. The cage was real. And as my eyes adjusted, so too was the room slowly emerging around me. It was large and circular, lined with cages and chains around the perimeter. On the far side, a single stone passageway led upward to what I knew was the main floor of a beautiful gilded manor.

"Shut up, filthblood," a harsh masculine voice growled beside me. "Stop your sobbing. You don’t deserve it, not after what you’ve done to the rest of us."

I flinched, hugging myself tighter, my tail curling around me. I tried to supress my sniffles, and failed.

That was it, then. It must have been a dream. Escaping this place, turning against the church, meeting Luke. A foolish dream born from longing, some last bit of light I’d clung to in the dark. Because how could anything so warm, so wonderful, be real? Even if it had been, how could I ever have been arrogant enough to think a life like that could belong to me?

There was the jingle of metal, and the door above the stairs opened. Light spilled down in piercing rays, and eddies of fresher air swirled into the room.

I still tasted ash. That was all I ever tasted now.

A figure descended the stairs, his boots clacking against the stone. My heart crept into my throat, and I bit my lip, shrinking back, barely daring to peek. Somewhere in my heart, I already knew who was coming, and who he’d be carrying, but then a light crystal set into the ceiling flickered to life. Its glow was faint and uneven, but enough for me to make out the figure.

The butler.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling relieved for some reason, but that didn’t make any sense. What had I been so afraid of? The only person I knew here was Aurle, and she was with Lord Byron tonight.

A memory flashed through my mind. Blood, a foxkin girl lying on the ground in my arms. It stole my breath away, and then it was gone.

I sat on the ground, stunned, fighting the urge to start crying again. The butler went around the room, unlocking the slaves’ cages and giving them their assignments, but I barely heard him. What had that been? I couldn’t receive visions anymore, not with the Soul Binder in Lord Byron’s possession. My hand curled against my chest.

"Starlight," a sharp voice barked.

I jumped, looking up to find the butler standing before me. My cage was already open. I hadn’t even heard the hinges creak.

"Yes, sir." I scrambled out of the cage, giving him a curtsy. "Sorry, sir."

I didn’t dare meet his eyes. I could still feel the bite of the whip he’d wielded last night when I’d refused Lord Byron yet again, and Aurle had been taken in my place.

"Maid duty," he said expressionlessly, already moving on to the next slave.

It must have been a nightmare, suddenly coming back to me. I gave myself a shake and followed the other slaves as they trailed up the stairs into the manor above. It was already morning, and the light streaming through the windows was almost blinding.

The other slaves barely looked at me, and when they did, it was with scorn. I hunched my shoulders and hurried to the dressing rooms, where I received my uniform. I felt some relief that we’d been assigned a week of maid duty. It was hardly the most punishing work.

"Hey, Starlight," said a familiar voice.

My tail gave a little twitch, and I turned, looking up.

Aurle smiled at me, tossing her long, reddish hair over her shoulder.

"Let me help you with that," she said, taking my uniform. "You’re looking a little tired."

She didn’t look any better. Her night with Lord Byron had taken its toll, as it always did. She had heavy bags beneath her eyes and was covered in small splotches and bruises. When she walked, I noticed her limping slightly, but she still wore a small, reassuring smile, her tail giving a little twitch behind her.

Tears spilled from my eyes, and without really knowing why, I threw myself at her, wrapping my arms around her. She took a steadying step back, looking confused, but embraced me in return.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut and letting my tears soak into her dress.

"Hey, what’s this about? You’re not normally so clingy," she said with a small smile. "Come on, lift your arms. We’ve got to get you dressed before we get in trouble."

She tugged at my dress, trying to get it over my head, but I refused to let her go. I tried to take a breath, but my chest seized, and more tears came spilling out. I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t want to. I just wanted her to hold me again.

At last, she managed to squirm out of my grip and help me out of my clothes. I shivered as the cold air struck my skin, hugging myself, tears still running down my cheeks. She pursed her lips as my thin, bony frame came into view, carefully running her hand over my side and tracing one of the long, jagged stripes the butler’s whip had left the night before.

"I’m sorry," I whimpered again, flinching away from the stinging touch.

"Hey, it’s all right. I’m sorry I teased you. I don’t mind if you’re feeling a little affectionate," she said, giving me a reassuring smile. "But let’s save it until after we’re done with our work. No need to give them another reason to punish us. The gods know they don’t need one as it is."

She helped me into my uniform, tying the apron behind my back before kneeling in front of me and wiping the tears from my cheeks. A faint hint of her mana tingled against my face.

"There we go. You’re just a bit too pretty for a servant, I think. No wonder Lord Byron’s after you. Man, just think what would happen if you actually smiled."

"I can smile," I mumbled, clasping my hands and looking down.

"Is that right?" she asked, standing with a chuckle. She took my hand and gave me one more look over before nodding in satisfaction. "All right then, Miss Smiler. What do you say we get to work? Those corners aren’t going to dust themselves."

There was a strange sensation on my lips, and as I followed her toward our assignment, I pressed my hand against them.

A smile.

I didn’t know how to smile, so why did I...?

The day flew by, the hours bleeding into one another. The confusion and fear of the morning’s strange nightmares gradually faded into routine, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Every time I looked at Aurle, tears welled up in my eyes, tears I couldn’t explain. All I knew was that when I was with her, my pain was a little more bearable.

And yet, there was a coldness to that warmth. When she looked at me, I cringed. When she laughed, I felt hollow. When she smiled, I wanted to cry.

As we finished the last of our chores, I stood with a feather duster in my hand, staring out the window. The gardens were cold and dormant, covered in a crust of snow.

There was a single flower bed in the center of the courtyard, preserved by magic. The flowers were a satin white, so pure they made the snow seem dusty and brown. Visiting dignitaries and merchants would pass by them on their way to the front doors. I’d passed by them with Soltair the first time we’d come here and hadn’t even noticed.

"Starlight?" Aurle asked, coming up behind me, a note of concern in her voice. "Are you all right? You’ve seemed different today."

"Nivalea," I said softly.

"Sorry?" she asked, tilting her head.

"The flowers," I whispered. "I remember."

She glanced past me, out the window. "They’re really pretty."

"I had one for you," I continued, my voice barely a whisper. The words spilled from my lips, carrying memories I hadn’t yet made. "One for Elise, one for Tana, and one for you."